


Fucking Fade and Fucking Nightmare Demons

by Saiya_tina



Series: A Comedy of Assholes (Rhapsody, etc.) [40]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, So much angst, and anton picks up a fade std, and cormac has to save his ass, because he's an idiot, because his damn brothers keep getting in trouble, missing part of previous story, of sorts, this is why carver has issues, what if anton hawke was left in the fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4713998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saiya_tina/pseuds/Saiya_tina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The shittiest thing about Nightmare demons, Anton thought, was that they were fucking Nightmare demons. The last thing he wanted to do was combat it, but he also knew it was the only thing to do. Alistair was needed, the Wardens needed a man who could guide them, help them rebuild. And fuck him, but the royal bastard had actually grown on him.</p><p>Or</p><p>How Anton Hawke makes bad life decisions when it comes to demons and why he'll be very happy never to seen the damn Fade again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucking Fade and Fucking Nightmare Demons

**Author's Note:**

> This is a segment that never made it into "The Ballad of the Commander and the Champion." Originally, Anton is supposed to go into the Fade with Alistair and get left behind. But considering how big the scene was turning out, I decided to make it a different story. (I was also terrified of writing Cormac Hawke because Penbrydd set the bar so damn high I can't even see it.)
> 
> This story has taken me a good three months to finish, so in parts, it might seem rushed. Sorry about that, but I am desperate to get this thing out there so that it stops RUINING MY LIFE. Hope you enjoy!

The shittiest thing about Nightmare demons, Anton thought, was that they were fucking Nightmare demons. The last thing he wanted to do was combat it, but he also knew it was the only thing to do. Alistair was needed, the Wardens needed a man who could guide them, help them rebuild. A man who showed he had the conviction no other Warden did. In the light of an ancient order that could stop Blights, a former refugee and current Viscount of a small city seemed insignificant. And fuck him, but the royal bastard had actually grown on him.

Though he was nearly ready to shit his pants, he was just as ready to make sure the others got out alive.

The Inquisitor’s voice was somber. Sad. Anton didn’t envy his decision. The moment his name came out of the Herald’s lips, he knew what was going to follow. He was just thankful Varric had already gone through the Rift.

“Take care of them,” Anton said, proud of himself for ensuring his voice didn’t shake. “And make sure Cullen doesn’t bury himself in work. He gets very dull when he’s been dealing with responsibility for too long. And after four pints, he’ll be willing to play Strip Wicked Grace.”

That was it. He didn’t wait for the Inquisitor’s response and he shoved all thoughts of Cullen away. Thinking of him wouldn’t make this any easier. He drew out his daggers with a deep breath, wondering if there was any point in promising his soul to the Maker now before the demon took the decision out of his hands.

He leapt forward like he did with everything in his life, slashing at a tendril that swung towards him. The small ones were numerous and he hacked away many in one swing, idly wishing his blades were a bit longer. Daggers were useless when you were trying to keep distance. Blood began to rain down like droplets, landing like tears on his face. He glimpsed the Inquisitor and Alistair running towards the Fade Rift with his party and drew the demon’s attention away from them. They stopped before the rift and he wanted to scream at them, but particularly at the Inquisitor to get his Maker-blessed ass out of this nightmare when a tendril brushed his shoulder he lost all control of his body.

He dropped his daggers, arms going limp as he lost sensation in them. He fell to his knees, like a broken doll and watched, feeling like a stranger in his own body, as the Inquisitor stopped Alistair from running towards him, shoving him through the rift and following with one last backward glance.

He saw a tendril stroke the back of his exposed neck through the corner of his eye and knew he would be panicking if he could feel anything. Things began to get hazy and his breath hitched as a sudden, sharp needle-like pain erupted at the back of his neck. Blackness closed over him slowly and Anton couldn’t fight it.

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

_Well, you’re going to be fun._

Anton blinked, looking around. The field he was standing on was surrounded by soon-to-be-harvested crops. He could see a windmill a few yards away and, further than that, a small village. A very familiar village.

“Oh come on,” he muttered, turning around. Yup, there it was. “And here I thought I’d given up the farm life for good.” He walked over to the very familiar house that he’d last seen going up in flames as they ran. Everything looked the same, from the scratches in the door from Mintaka to the tree in the back that he used to climb. “So, I assume you brought me here for a reason?” he said, peering through the windows. “Probably to make me relive the night we ran from here.”

 _Now, now, that would be much too easy._ The demon sounded gleeful. _The ruin of Lothering fed me well, but in your case, there are much better events to feast on._

“I really don’t know what a nightmare demon is going to find appetizing in Lothering,” Anton said dryly, straightening up and walking around to the back of the house. “There isn’t anything you can show me here that’s going to give me nightmares. Unless you’re going to show me Cormac’s Knife Incident. Or my parents having sex. But I think that’s too cruel, even by your standards.”

_Ah, but I’m not just a nightmare demon. What truly makes me powerful is people’s fears. And you have some delicious ones._

“What have I to fear? Besides that recurring nightmare of the goat eating me.” Anton looked up at the tree, thumb scratching over the gouges in the bark. He’d made those when he’d practiced knife throwing. Maker, Mother had nearly hung him from the tree when she caught him, scolding him even as she took the kitchen knives and placed them out of his reach. Not that they stayed there for long. He just got better at hiding it.

 _That was one of the few times she paid attention to you, wasn’t it?_ The demon purred and Anton didn’t like how pleased the demon sounded. _No magic, not like your older brothers. Nothing special, just a boy who played with knives._

“So that’s the route you’re going huh? Playing on the good old fashioned mommy issues. I can tell you now you’re wasting your time,” Anton said, heart beating a little quickly for his liking. “She may have not liked what I was doing, but she was never anything less than supportive.”

 _Supportive? Is that how you remember it?_ The demon scoffed. _Come now, have you forgotten the first night she found you sneaking back with the coins you made off the gamblers? Slapped you roundly, didn’t she?_

Anton winced. His mother had one hell of a hand on her when she was angry. “She was worried I’d get hurt. I’d have been more concerned if she wasn’t worried. And she was more upset with that than I was.”

 _Not saying anything didn’t mean she liked it,_ the demon said. _It just meant she knew you wouldn’t listen. You never listened. Even when you knew you were breaking her heart, you continued to do what you wanted. Such a selfish boy._

“I’m a scoundrel, it’s in my job description,” Anton said as he explored the house. It gave his body something to do while his mind was racing. The demon was getting uncomfortably close to doubts that he had spent too many years burying. Too many times had he come home to see his mother trying to hide her concern and disapproval. She never voiced her thoughts, but he knew that she wasn’t happy with some of his lifestyle choices and even unhappier at the unspoken truth that they needed whatever he brought in.

_The nights she spent wondering if you’d come back in the morning. If this time you’d anger someone beyond your capabilities. But that never stopped you, did it? What did it matter as long as you were having fun?_

“Guilt? Really?” Anton tossed his head back with a grin. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty. Me. Come on, you can do better than that, can’t you? You’d have a better chance making me feel guilty about nearly getting Artie buggered by a bull. You have nothing on Mum’s guilt trips.”

_But then again, she knew it was inevitable that you would be a disappointment. No wonder they paid more attention to the others._

“Most of them were mages. Of course they needed more attention.” Anton followed the familiar path to the bedrooms, pausing at each of them. When the twins had been born, space had been difficult to come by. Cormac and Artemis always slept together, their mother with the twins and Anton with his father. Those were some of the precious few moments when Malcolm had his attention solely on him. Then they moved to Lothering, to a bigger house and Anton discovered the perks of having one’s own room.

Before that, he’d always slept near the window. It was easier to sneak out of the room without waking them up. He knew Cormac saw him sometimes, but, to his knowledge, he never said a word about it. Even back then, Cormac had enough faith in him to know Anton wouldn’t get himself in over his head. Sneaking out just became easier when he didn’t share a room with anyone. But despite the pros, the con had been that he’d realized just how unattached he was to his other siblings. Bethany had Carver. Artemis had Cormac. What was it the Chantry Mother said about the middle children? They were too independent too young.

He ran a finger along Bethany’s bedframe. He could feel the gouges where Carver would nail her braid to the bed. Normally, Anton got it out because his knife skills meant he only cut the bare minimum to get her loose. Then they’d plot to toss Carver in the mud pit. “They didn’t need the Templars to show them how to control their magic,” he said outloud. “Father was more than enough. They needed his attention more than Carver and I did.”

_And isn’t that the root of it all? You could never have what you wanted because of them. A chance to settle down and make friends that you wouldn’t have to lie to and then leave. The attention of your parents for longer than a few minutes. The chance to learn something from your father rather than the cutpurses, gamblers and prostitutes. It would have been so much easier if your father had just let the Templars take them away._

“I really don’t think a Nightmare Demon is a good source of familial advice,” Anton interrupted. “My father loved us all. And you’re nugshit crazy if you think any of those trivial things would be worth tearing the family apart. Cormac, Artie and Bethy had as much right to stay as I did.”

_He always chose their well-being over yours because you simply weren’t important enough to waste time on. Sometimes he wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t around all day. Such a young child and no one cared where he was. But Bethany and Carver…oh, they always had time to spare for them, didn’t they?_

“I swear, if I knew where you were, I’d cut your tongue out myself,” Anton snarled. “Maybe even make you eat it for good measure. With a sauce made of your own liver. And a garnish of your balls – if you have any – on top.”

 _Innovative,_ the demon chuckled. _The gamblers were good tutors, weren’t they? I’m sure your father hoped you would become enamored with the soldiers that passed through Lothering, but you were always on a darker path. You chose the assassins to emulate. And the prostitutes. You did well for yourself then. The Templars made for good targets. Easy to seduce and even easier to kill._

“Well, if the Chantry didn’t promote abstinence, that wouldn’t have been an issue. All that repression and plate mail was bound to lead to an explosion, one way or another.” Anton shrugged, “And it’s not like they didn’t die happy.”

_Oh, do dispense with that indifferent attitude, you’re not fooling anyone. Does Cullen even know what you were going to do to him had he persisted with the questioning about your sister? I imagine that Lady de Launcet’s green coat would have been stained with far worse substances then._

“I thought you were a fear demon,” Anton said, wincing a little. That jab hurt because it was true, but he’d made a living for himself by running away from his problems and he wasn’t about to stop now. “Not feeling much fear right now.”

_Ah, but this is the root of all fear, my dear boy. All those years sacrificing everything to keep the mages in your family safe and for what? Now they no longer need you. They’ll forget about you because, honestly, who would remember a child so…unremarkable? Not old enough to be respected, nor young enough to be coddled. Your family won’t even notice you’re gone. Cullen – Commander Cullen - would eventually find a replacement. Someone who would be able to make him their top priority._

“You have no power over me, demon,” Anton said, snarling. The haziness from before started returning, making his vision blur at the edges. No matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, the demon’s words were hitting true. Fears he had refused to acknowledge were being torn out of him and leaving bleeding sores in their place. He was afraid and the demon knew it, was feeding on it and demanding more.

_Ah, but I do. You’re strong-willed, impressively so, but you are still just a man. A common man with common fears – the fear of being forgotten. Of being ordinary. Of being abandoned. You are useless. Unneeded. Unwanted. Your brothers are accomplished mages and now the Templars are gone. Bethany has status and power. Carver has ascended the ranks and become his own man. They have no need of you anymore._

“They may not need me,” Anton said, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. He wanted to slump to the ground and just let everything be over. But more than that, he wanted this damn demon dead. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t want me. You’re good, demon, but I’m not so easily beaten.”

 _Ah, but you are,_ the demon said. The voice filled his head and he pressed his hands against his ears to block it out. It was futile. He felt his knees beginning to buckle, the heavy weariness leeching into him. _How easy it was for me to disarm you. For you to fall. I’m not even using a fraction of my strength to hold you. But you’ve always been weak. Too weak to fight a man honorably. You have to lurk in the shadows, like a thief. But what would you know of honor? You live with a title that doesn’t even belong to you. ‘Champion of Kirkwall’… just another thing you stole. Your greatest achievement wasn’t even yours._

“Hey, I fought that Arishok. Not my fault Cormac had to step in on my glorious moment,” Anton said, choking on a laugh. It was getting harder to breathe. “And you must be running out of material if you think bringing up a lousy title is going to make me break down in tears.”

_I’m simply saving the best for last. A Templar? My, your brothers were shocked when they heard that. How easily they thought you’d sold them out when you continued to meet with him. But then again, you’ve always been good at deceiving people. It’s no wonder none of them could trust you._

“They never doubted me,” Anton bit out. “Cormac knew I wouldn’t endanger the family.”

_Would he still think the same thing if he knew what you thought about sometimes? The ways you can…how did you put it…“subdue” your siblings? If they became too much of a threat?_

That stopped his tongue cold.

_They’re dangerous, only a fool would be unaware of that. Cormac has a taste for blood unlike anyone you’ve ever seen. Even Artemis has a dark side. Bethany’s talent with corpses is nearly unrivaled. How long before they’re pushed too hard? Before they’re backed into a corner and they make choices they can’t reverse?_

“They know not to say yes to demons,” Anton said, words coming out automatically. His heart was beating faster now, enough that he could hear it pounding in his head. It was bad enough having those thoughts in the first place, it was even worse to have them thrown in his face.

 _Ah, but there’s always something that pushes people to make deals,_ the demon purred. _What would they do for each other? For the rest of their family? Do you think Cormac would not go to any lengths to save Artemis? Even if it meant dealing with a demon? Would Bethany not do anything to protect the rest of you?_

He wanted to protest, but he honestly did not know the truth himself. None of them would agree under normal circumstances, but Anton also knew that the Hawkes tended to go to incredible lengths when family was at stake. Even their father hadn’t been exempt from blood magic when it came to protecting family.

_You know they’re dangerous. You fear them._

“I fear for them,” Anton corrected sharply. He took a deep breath, letting it out slow, willing himself to think. “All my friends are dangerous and they’re not any different. Part of our friend circle included a mage who blew up a Chantry, an elf that liked to rip people’s hearts out and a woman whose kill count is nearly as impressive as mine.”

_Ah, but you know you can stop them, should they go down too dark a path, the demon said, undeterred. Could you stop your siblings? Would you even want to?_

“I’d do what I’d have to,” Anton said and the words hurt. They physically hurt him to say, but it was the painful, hard truth. “Whatever it took.”

 _Yes, you are rather good at doing what you need to,_ the demon said, amused. _Such as enthralling a man to save your family._

“As far as I know, he enjoyed being enthralled,” Anton said, looking around anything, anyway to escape the illusion. The house faded around him. The demon was no doubt more interested in taunting him than maintaining the illusion. “He was very vocal about it.”

_Of course he was interested. What man wouldn’t be interested in someone so desperate to be fucked?_

“…Rather uncalled for.”

The demon laughed loudly. _Ah, wit in the face of fear. Perhaps the only thing you have in common with the rest of your family. The farm began to grow darker, like the sun was setting somewhere. Do you truly think Cullen would have chosen you if he’d had the chance to seek someone else? The only reason he continues to bed you is because he knows no other option. If he had the opportunity to choose between you and a nice, decent, normal girl, he’d never pick you. Why would he? What have you to offer him besides carnal affection? You’re incapable of loving him the way he would deserve._

“Really? Now you’re giving me relationship advice?” Anton said. He grunted as his knees buckled under him. It was getting harder and harder to fight the demon. The demon was feeding off him and the more it fed, the stronger it got. The stronger it got, the deeper it was able to dig. “Did you miss the part where he married me?”

The demon snorted and Anton bit his cheek in anger at the derisive tone. _You always sought out people who had no one else. It was easier to be mistaken as something good when people don’t know any better. Cullen would leave you in a moment if he knew what else was out there in the world. That’s why he left you in Kirkwall. Why he went to Skyhold and never wrote back to your letters. Why he never wears your ring anymore. He would have been happy if you didn’t seek him out. Your marriage was just another thing you tricked him into. He would never have consented if he had known better._

“He loves me,” Anton repeated, partially to reaffirm his statement and partially to buy time. He had to find some way to make the demon reveal itself. He couldn’t fight a foe he couldn’t see, hear or sense. It was tempting to give in and just let this nightmare be over, but there was no way he was going to be beaten by a demon. The demon lost its focus while arguing, he recalled. Time to think of argument bait that even a Nightmare Demon couldn’t resist.

“He loves me. Almost as much as how terrified you are of me.”

The demon’s laughter suddenly cut off.

Anton would have smiled if he could feel his face. Demons always had a fundamental weakness. Pride.

“You’re afraid of me,” Anton said, tongue feeling thick in his mouth, but years of experience kept him talking. “Of course you are. But I don’t blame you. I’d be scared of me too.”

 _I am not frightened of you,_ the demon said, for once sounding different. Incredulous. Offended.

“Oh, of course you are,” Anton said, huffing with a chuckle. “Why else would you be trying these sort of mind games with me? You know you couldn’t beat me in a fight without your powers. You’re terrified I could kill you, so you won’t face me yourself.”

 _I am not afraid of you,_ the demon said, anger creeping into its voice. The fog began clearing from his head. It was getting easier to think as the demon got distracted. Time to put up the old Hawke Offensive.

“Yes you are,” Anton said, looking up at the sky that was beginning to look translucent. The façade was falling apart. “Of course you are and who could blame you? We kicked your ass before and I’m more than capable of doing it myself! You’re a nightmare demon, right? Well, guess what- nightmares only have power over you when you give it to them. And what little power the nightmare has, it loses it when the person is awake.” He raised his arms to shoulder level in a blatant dare, “Well, try to take me on when I’m awake! Meet me on an even playing field and lets see how scary you are then! If you want, I’ll even give you a handicap! I’ll blindfold myself or I’ll just use my left hand. Because I’ll tell you this- I am what I am, inside or outside a dream. You, on the other hand… I don’t think you could make the same promise.”

 _You puny, insignificant speck!_ The demon roared and the sky began to fragment. Anton looked down to see the ground around him fading from dry grass into rock and dust. _I have no fears! What makes you think I would be afraid of a tiny mortal like you? You are nothing but a speck in existence. A blot that can be wiped out with a wave of my hand_!

“Ah but that’s why you’ll lose,” Anton said, grinning. “Fear gives us power. Drive. Being brave doesn’t mean you lack fears: it just means you have the power to overcome them. You can wipe me out with a wave of your hand? Well, so can I!” The façade broke and that was all the opening Anton needed.

His dagger, the one Sandal enchanted just for him, slipped into his hand with familiarity born of years of handling. He turned and spotted the silhouette of the Nightmare demon standing only a few feet away, mouth locked in a snarl as it advanced on him. He lifted the dagger and flung it straight at the demon’s face. At the same time, the Fade Rift that the Inquisitor had gone through at what felt like hours ago flared brightly and snapped shut. The demon roared in pain but its cry was silenced as the dagger went through its head with a meaty ‘thwack.’

Anton didn’t know what he expected. A burst of light. Loud roaring. Maybe the ground breaking apart under his feet. Anything besides watching the demon crumple into a pile silently. But between one blink and the other, he was on the ground, blinking bleary eyes as the tendril at the back of his neck fell away when he forced himself up onto his knees. He retched when he felt small needles drawing out of his neck and he winced at the punctures he felt there. Fortunately it didn’t seem to have caused any permanent damage. He looked at the end of the tendril and shuddered at the ring of needles at the end. Hopefully demons didn’t carry diseases. He didn’t want to explain a demonic STD to Cullen.

The smaller version of the nightmare demon remained where it was. He didn’t get closer to it, warily watching it for any signs of life. Corypheus had taught him not to take dead for face value. A minute passed. Then two. Then ten. The demon didn’t move.

“I guess dead is dead when it comes to demons at least,” Anton said, walking forward. “But best be safe.” He took a few minutes and hacked the demon to pieces. It was gruesome work, but he had a strong stomach. He needed one to survive growing up with Cormac and Artemis sometimes. He shuddered. At least the demon hadn’t brought his brothers’ sex lives up. He would have probably stabbed himself instead. He scattered the pieces, tossing some off the edges of the ground. The grisly task done, he cleaned off his hands in what passed for water in the Fade and then explored the area where the Rift had once been.

“Doesn’t look like I’m getting out this way,” Anton said, biting his lip. “Well, Thedas is full of rifts. Surely there’s one still open. Hopefully.” He stood at the sight of the Rift, reorienting himself to figure out where he needed to go. Internal compass synced, he started east towards Skyhold. If he was lucky, he might spot some rifts on the way.

If not, well, people likely thought he was dead already. At least he wouldn’t make them mourn twice.

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

Escape was looking more and more impossible.

Anton didn’t know how long he’d been in the Fade. If he judged it as the day ending when he managed to sleep, he’d guess about three. Three days trapped physically in the Fade. Maker, he was beginning to wonder why mages wanted to return to this Maker-forsaken place. He would be glad to never see the color green again.

He was also beginning to realize that the chances of him starving to death were nearly as good as his chances of getting killed by a wandering demon. He’d packed food before leaving for Adamant, a habit worn into him by his mother, but it wasn’t going to last him long. He’d managed to make a few days’ worth of rations last longer than they would have normally, but he was going to run out soon. At least the Fade had water, but he wasn’t entirely sure what he was introducing into his body. Nonetheless, thirst would kill him quicker than anything, so questionable dream-water it was.

The demons were another nuisance. While he could handle a Rage demon on his own anytime, it was hard to do so when you were the only one fighting over and over again with no chance to recuperate completely. Anton was well aware of the fact that he was getting slower after each fight. No matter how well-trained he was, his body was hitting its limits.

Worse, there were no Fade Rifts. None. He couldn’t see any and right now, he was walking blind. “And I can’t even guarantee I’m going to leave behind a devastatingly handsome corpse,” he said aloud. Only so long you could go without talking when you were a Hawke. Admittedly, he missed having an audience. “Next time, Varric can get himself out of his own messes.”

Thinking of Varric, he wondered if his friend had gotten the news from the Inquisitor. He wondered whether he’d sent out letters to his siblings, letting them know that the family had gotten a little smaller. Anton wasn’t worried much. Cormac had Anders, Artemis had Fenris, Bethany had Sebastian and Carver…well, Carver would get over it quickly, even without Merrill. He worried the most about Cullen. He wondered what it might have been like, waiting for the Siege to end and finding that you came out victorious but you lost someone important in the process. He would be deluding himself if he told himself Cullen would have been fine. He’d be strong, but he wouldn’t be fine for a long while.

“I’d probably be the same if I’d gotten the news,” he mused out loud. “But he’s got the Inquisition, he’ll be fine…eventually.” The truth was that he wasn’t sure Cullen would be. The Commander always seemed like nothing could hurt him, but Anton knew damn well just how deep the wounds went. Cullen still had nightmares from the Fereldan Circle. He still mourned choices he made in Kirkwall. Since Anton had arrived at Kirkwall, he’d noticed Cullen was more irritable, always fatigued and always looking pained. He didn’t know the cause, but he sure as hell wasn’t blind to the symptoms. He’d fucking make Cullen sit and tell him everything when he got out.

“I could let you see him again,” a voice purred in his ear. Anton stopped short, hands flexing to his sides.

“Desire demon,” he said, not looking back. “I assume you’re here to make me an offer, which I will undoubtedly reject, you’ll take it to heart and we’ll end up in a death battle that will end in a way not favorable to you.”

“Funny boy,” the demon chuckled breathily. Anton twitched when he felt the hot breath against his ear. “What use is there in fighting? You know you cannot escape. You can either die, slowly and painfully, or you could die with a smile on your face.” He felt her clawed hands on his shoulders as she pushed herself flush against his back. “You could have it all. Your siblings, safe and happy. Your parents, alive and well. Your friends, living harmoniously with each other. Your husband...” the voice turned deeper, more masculine. “Right there beside you. Under that oak tree you loved, watching your family and friends live happily. All you ever wanted.” The voice turned more seductive, more familiar. “All we wanted, love,” Cullen’s voice said from behind him. “Isn’t that worth everything? Wouldn’t it be better to live like this?”

Anton didn’t response. He looked out at the farm, at his mother and father holding hands, looking out at his siblings with proud smiles. At Bethany laughing as she twirled her staff while Sebastian watched her with love. At Carver talking to Merrill, looking so much more relaxed and peaceful than he did when Anton saw him last. At Cormac and Anders laughing uproariously, no doubt due to one of Cormac’s inappropriate remarks that Anders seemed to find so endearing. At Artemis and Fenris looking calm and so much in love that it made his heart ache. Varric was polishing his crossbow, no longer featuring the lines that had been a result of too many years of bad luck and guilt. Isabela was just as wild and beautiful as he remembered her. Aveline looked calm, not like the harried, exhausted woman he’d left in Kirkwall who was trying to hold a broken city together.

“This could be ours, Anton,” the de-Cullen said, walking in front of him. He looked so much younger, no lines from the nightmares or scars from battles. Anton didn’t move as he wrapped his arms around his waist, eyes locked on the smiling face before him. “All you have to do is allow me to make this your reality. Let me do this for you.” Cullen’s forehead bumped against his lightly, “You deserve it.”

“I deserve it,” Anton repeated, hands slowly coming up to curl around Cullen’s shoulders, running down to his elbows. He stared at Cullen for a long time, drinking in the sight of him, eyes lingering on his smooth lips. He traced a finger over a scar that wasn’t there and then closed his eyes with a shuddering sigh. “But this isn’t a world where we always get what we deserve.”

He kept his eyes closed as he plunged the dagger into the demon’s side. He didn’t flinch when he felt warm blood flow over his hand, when he heard the sick, wet gasp he’d heard so many times before but now in an achingly familiar voice. He kept his eyes closed as he felt the demon’s warmth fall away from him, even as he swiped the dagger over its throat and ended its suffering quick. He stepped over its corpse, walking away without looking back.

He missed the set of veiled eyes following him.

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

A week. A fucking, Maker damned week.

Or he thought it was a week. He couldn’t tell anymore.

Anton forced himself to keep going on as little food as possible. He knew the human body could survive without it for nearly a month, but he also knew that he couldn’t keep up his current rate of activity at the same time. He found himself getting exhausted much faster and water alone wasn’t enough for him to maintain a high level of activity. He found himself stopping to rest and sleep far more often and the progress he made each day lessened even more.

He always felt hungry now. Felt the bone-deep exhaustion that threatened to bring him to his knees with every step. Fortunately, he hadn’t encountered many demons recently but he knew that run of luck could not last long. The desire demons he encountered, drawn by his increasing desperation, were easy to kill. They tried to ensnare him and he struck while they were distracted, but Anton knew himself well enough to know that his tactic would not work out forever. It was getting harder and harder to resist them. No matter how strong his will was, his body’s was stronger and it was just about ready to give up on him.

He sat down heavily on a rock formation, grimacing at the minute trembling of his hand as he picked up his waterskin to take a drink. It wasn’t much, but he knew it could make a huge different for him during battle. He was used to his strikes being precise, especially his throws. If the shaking got worse, it could be bad. Reluctantly, he reached into his pack to take out a piece of dried meat. He ate it as slow as possible, but all it did was make him hungrier. He was beginning to wonder if he should just give in at this point.

He dismissed that line of thinking immediately. He had a chance at survival if he kept moving. If he didn’t there was none. It was a small hope, but it was still there though he knew it was foolish. There were no visible open rifts. He was close to exhaustion and he was nearly out of food. He knew the odds were overwhelmingly against him and it was getting harder to dismiss his darker thoughts.

“Fuck, and here I thought I’d go out in a blaze of glory,” Anton rasped, wincing at how fucking weak his voice sounded. “This is pathetic.”

“Why do you continue to resist?” a purring voice asked. Anton didn’t even have the energy to panic. He closed his eyes and sighed, shoulders slumping like they couldn’t support the weight of his arms anymore. He didn’t even have enough in him for one last burst before his inevitable death. A cool hand crept under his chin and he let the demon tilt his head back. He looked up through blurry eyes at the smiling purple face. “You’re so tired. Why not rest?”

“So you can suck my soul out?” Anton said, but his lips refused to move enough for the words to come out without slurring. “I think I prefer the insomnia.”

The demon let out an inelegant snort. “You can barely walk.”

“Barely doesn’t mean can’t. If I can get a foot in front of the other, I can walk.”

She chuckled, “Oh, you are a delight. So full of hope, even with the odds against you. And such strong desire. A fighter. I would love to keep you.”

“Not possible, darling,” Anton said, hand somehow clenching around the hilt of his dagger. “I’m already taken.” He drew the dagger out and thrust it back.

It didn’t make contact.

He heard the dagger clatter as the demon wrenched it out of his hand and tossed it aside. Her grip on his neck tightened as she grabbed the second dagger before he could and tossed it away as well. He couldn’t reach the one behind his back with her pressed against him and she brought her other arm around his upper chest.

“You’re spirited,” she purred, scratching his jawline lightly with her nails. “I like that. Come now, is dying alone and in pain better than what I can offer? You could live your entire life in my illusions. No pain, no anger, no hurt. You’re doomed, you know you are. Why not allow me to give you what you want? You won’t even notice the difference.”

“No,” Anton said, but he already knew he was losing that fight. Still, the rebel part of his brain managed to keep his mouth moving. “As long as I’m breathing, I have a chance to escape.” But he knew the truth of the demons words. The chances were bright that he was going to die here, so did it even matter if he allowed the demon to consume what was left of his life? It would be a week, maybe two. And here he was being offered an entire lifetime instead. Logically, he knew that there was nothing wrong with him giving in now. But he was still a Hawke, one raised to know that demons could offer you nothing that would be worth the pain.

It was a difficult decision, but the Fade had already taken his remaining defenses. He had no weapons now and a fight would just end in him being killed or wounded enough to make his last moments painful. He was just so damn tired.

“Begone, demon,” he muttered, words slurring together. “I can get out of here.”

“Rest, dear, stubborn boy,” the demon purred, voice deepening and Anton felt himself leaning into the support at his back. Hands cupped the back of his head and lowered him slowly onto the ground. “No one will blame you for this, my dear Tony.”

Anton would have scowled at the use of that nickname, but the darkness slipped over him like a shroud.

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

Anton, I’ll be back soon! We need more wood for the fire,” Cullen called as he shrugged on his coat. Anton barely glanced at him over the wood he was working on, knife making small, precise cuts. “And I’d appreciate it if you stopped whittling away the wood we already have.”

“But that’s boring,” Anton said, holding the carving of a Mabari up into the light, turning it over to see any rough or misshapen spots. “You don’t want me to be bored, do you Cully-Wully?”

“Maker,” Cullen snorted with laughter. “I should never have let you meet Sera. Anyway, I’ll be back in a moment. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Anton said absently, staring at the carving. It was perfect, better than any he had done before. He tossed it into the fire and grabbed another log, picturing a dragon in his head. The scales came alive under his fingers, small details that were impossible with a knife appearing with a thought. The finished dragon head was perfect. He threw that into the fire too.

He got up from the chair easily. The weather outside their cabin was perfect. The right spot between the warmth of summer and the cold of winter. He always loved the between seasons like spring and fall. They were perfect. He looked around at the trees, gazing at the bright orange leaves and the ones that were just turning red. The ground itself had lush green grass, not a twig or dead leaf in sight.

“Paradise,” Anton muttered. It was true. After the Inquisition defeated Corypheus, Cullen had retired as the Commander of the Inquisition and Anton had made Aveline Viscount of Kirkwall before they traveled north to settle near Gwaren where Cullen’s family resided. His siblings remained in contact with him, sending him letters and telling him all about their new adventures. They were all safe and happy and it was just perfect.

“Fucking perfection,” he sighed, going over to kick a tree. No pain. “Are you fucking kidding me, how does no one figure out this shit is fake?”

“I dunno, most people are nug-shit crazy, I guess.”

Anton didn’t even bother to turn, studying the bark of the tree like he knew what he was looking for. “Seriously. Cormac. Of all the people you could have chosen, you chose Cormac?”

“Well, that definitely sounds like my little brother, so I guess I’m in the right place.” Cormac paused. “You never struck me as the hut-in-the-woods type, you know. Very…domestic and shit.”

“I didn’t think I was either,” Anton chuckled, running his finger over the jagged edges of the tree bark. No splinters. “But what do I know? Maybe I just repressed it. This is very…”

“Boring?”

“-Dull. I was going to say dull.” Anton turned around to lean against the tree. He eyed Cormac warily, taking in the slight purple edge he was used to seeing when his brother used his unique Fade abilities. “So I’m guessing you got Varric’s letter?”

“You always were the genius of the family,” Cormac snorted. “Someone had to come by and get your nug-humping ass out of here. In this case, it was Artie and me.”

“Artie’s here too?”

“Yeah, he’s waiting outside…this. Your room has probably been reorganized, by the way.”

“Fuck, he always moves my daggers around.”

“Well, then, don’t die next time, nugfucker,” Cormac said. A pause. “You scared the shit out of us. The last thing I expected was for Varric to tell my little brother got trapped in the Fade. That’s supposed to be a mage thing. Can’t you let us have just the one thing?”

“You can have it. How the fuck mages get used to this shit is beyond me.” Anton looked up at the perfect blue sky. “So, now that the pleasantries are done with, how did you get here?”

“Wibbly wobbly magicky stuff,” Cormac said. “Anders will be glad to explain everything when we get out of here.”

“I distinctly remember a desire demon.”

“Not an issue for the moment,” Cormac’s eyes darkened a bit.

“Is there even anything for me to return to?” Anton asked, genuinely curious. “I’m not quite sure how long I’ve been here, but I’m pretty sure I already had a foot at the Maker’s side before. All this effort to get to me would be a waste if I’m going to die the moment you kill the demon.”

“I’ll heal you,” Cormac said.

Anton just raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up, I can heal you enough to keep you alive until we get you to Anders. If you die, it’s going to be because I strangled you for pulling such a stupid move earlier,” Cormac said, cuffing Anton’s head. “You stupid bastard, what possessed you to stay back just to let a fucking Warden live? They can recruit more.”

“I was thinking we need the Wardens, no matter how big shits they can be,” Anton said, rubbing his head, though he didn’t really feel any pain. Stupid desire demon. “And I figured if anyone had a chance to face a Nightmare demon and live to tell the tale of it, it’d be me.”

“Varric’s going to shit himself when you tell him that story.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him how I rode a Pride demon too.”

Cormac snorted with amusement. He paused, “So you coming or what?”

“Thinking about it,” Anton said, leaning on the doorframe. “This is nice, I’ll admit, even if it is boring. But some life is better than none.”

“This isn’t a life,” Cormac said, bluntly. “And you’ve got a fucking demon feeding off you.”

“Do you honestly think I can tell?” Anton raised an eyebrow. “As far as I know, I’m just living in a disgustingly perfect world with a disgustingly perfect man and leading a disgustingly perfect life.”

“Yeah, sounds like you’re really happy.”

“I’ll admit it could use some explosions and blood. Maybe a dragon.”

“You can file a complaint with them later. Are you coming or not?”

“Well-”

“Anton, I just had to fight a demon that was using my brother’s body like some sort of sick meat puppet,” Cormac said, voice suddenly low and serious. “Don’t think I’m just going to leave you like that. I was just trying to be polite. Either way, this stops now.”

“Well, you never were good at being polite,” Anton said, not even mildly surprised. “You’re the head of the household, you know best. Who knows, this might actually work. What do I have to fear? Besides death. But I’ve faced that before too and honestly, I don’t see what the fuss is about.”

“You know Cullen was convinced you were alive,” Cormac said, focusing on fading back out of the illusion. “He pushed for us to try this.”

“It’s Cullen,” Anton said with a small smile. “That man would believe I could pass out of a dragon’s ass alive. Then again, he’s my husband, so he’s supposed to believe in me.”

“Smart man.” A quick grin and Cormac faded out of sight. A moment later, the illusion shattered like glass.

Anton’s chest felt like it would burst. He could feel himself gasping for breath, but nothing seemed to be entering his lungs. His hands came up to claw at his chest, claw at whatever was stopping his lungs from inflating, but a steel grip prevented him from digging the claws of his gauntlets into his chest. He fought it, but the grip was strong, stronger than he was right now. His stomach ached, his head pounded fiercely and he felt like his muscles were cramping, like they were being used too harshly after having fallen asleep. He thought he heard Cormac and Artie shouting, but it could have been his own screams. He felt the warmth of healing magic sweep over him and breathing became a bit easier, but the cramps didn’t lessen. He felt hands grasping at him hauling him up or around, a health poultice being poured into his mouth that he choked on, throat unused to swallowing anything anymore.

He couldn’t tell what was going on anymore, but it didn’t matter. His brothers were here, there wasn’t anything to worry about. They’d get him out, he’d see Cullen again and everything would be alright.

Everything would be alright.

Be brave, child.

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

“-exhausted-”

“-dehydrated, starving-”

“-check for possession-”

“-do no such thing-”

“-don’t give a fuck, you won’t-”

Anton blinked his eyes open as the cacophonous noise began to smoothen out into distinctive voices. His eyes watered at the brightness of the room and he could make out a blob of brownish-red amongst the burning white. It took a moment for his eyes to focus enough to realize the blob was an unfamiliar ceiling. He slowly turned his head to the side, wincing as it pulled on the muscles of his neck, muscles he hadn’t used in a while by the feeling. The medicines and bandages on the table at the side seemed to indicate he was in some sort of infirmary. The voices he traced through the door. One was definitely Cullen, another was more familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. The others were unknown, especially the harsh one that he didn’t like. He looked over at the small table next to the bed and spotted a glass of water on it. He took a deep breath and turned slightly onto his side, wincing at the soreness of his body. He reached out with a trembling hand for the glass, but he misjudged the distance and knocked it over.

The sound of the glass breaking silenced the voices and soon enough, he heard the door rattling as it was tossed open. He smiled slightly at the familiar bulk of his husband, eyes wide and concerned. He let himself be pushed back onto the bed as Cullen called for the healers, dismissing whoever was outside impatiently. He closed his eyes at the feeling of Cullen’s hands stroking his face, his hair and his shoulders. “Mm, that’s nice,” he murmured.

He heard a sob and opened his eyes to see Cullen smiling, even though his eyes looking distinctly teary. Anton frowned. Had he said something wrong? He opened his mouth, but Cullen leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, leaving his lips pressed against the skin. Anton could feel the puffs of breaths that sounded distinctly as sobs and he somehow brought a hand up to touch Cullen’s elbow.

“Cullen, wha-mmph!” Warm lips covered his own and Anton decided that, fuck it, he’d find out what happened later. He didn’t try to pull out of the kiss, letting Cullen have complete control over it. But he tapped his elbow when breathing got a little difficult and Cullen pulled back much earlier than he liked. Fuck, he’d need to work on his lung capacity again.

“Sorry, are you alright? I can’t imagine you’re feeling particularly good, but you’re alive. And safe. And Maker, I am going to be so angry with you when I’m not so relieved you’re okay because, dammit Anton, what were you thinking?” Cullen said in a rush, going from concerned to exasperated in a surprising short period of time.

Anton stared at him and then lifted his eyebrows in the closest approximate of a shrug he could manage.

“Your brothers said they found you enthralled. By a demon,” Cullen spat the word out. “Cormac managed to free you.”

Anton nodded. He remembered part of that. He wasn’t sure if Cullen was angry at him or the demon though.

Cullen seemed to read the question in his face. He took up one of Anton’s hands between both of his. “I don’t blame you,” Cullen said, rubbing his hand, fingers brushing his wedding ring. It fit a little looser than he remembered. “Of course not. Anders said it looked like you’d been in the Fade for weeks without food or water… You were nearly dead when they found you. I don’t think I’d have the ability to fight a desire demon in those conditions either.” His grip tightened a bit, eyes far away, “I almost didn’t back then.”

Anton didn’t like that train of thought. He squeezed Cullen’s hand to distract him, throat too dry to speak.

“The demon is dead and Anders assured us that there were no traces of possession left,” Cullen said. “But you’re still starved and dehydrated, so it’s going to be a slow recovery for you. You’re going to be exhausted a lot because your stamina will need to be built up again. So you’re on bed rest until the healers say you’re okay.”

Anton made a noise of protest and Cullen fixed him with a stern glare. “Your body atrophied under the demon’s influence. She was literally sucking you dry. Cormac and Artemis got you out a week ago and this is the first time you’ve been lucid for longer than a minute.” Anton’s eyes widened. “It hasn’t been the easiest time for any of us, but Anders said you will make a full recovery. Just slowly.” He looked over at the door and sighed, “I should let Cormac in here. He’s been nearly as worried as me.”

Anton didn’t have the energy to protest. Cullen kissed his hand, his ring finger, and then went back out the door. Cormac popped in soon enough.

“Maker, you got yourself into quite the mess, didn’t you?” Cormac said, sitting down on the chair besides the bed. Anton just shrugged. “Honestly, you don’t get yourself into messes you can’t get yourself out of often, but when you do, it’s a mess that makes anything else we’ve done pale in comparison. I have the Rivaini with the Knife, Artie has…honestly any time he’s been drunk. And now you’ll have That Time I Stayed in the Fade Because I’m a Mabari’s Ass.”

“Mine didn’t involve sex. Doesn’t count,” Anton rasped out.

Cormac filled one of the spare glasses with water, “You sound like a whore after a busy night.” He helped Anton take sips of the water, “So now that you’re coherent again, I’m going to ask you just what the fuck were you thinking?!”

Anton winced. When Cormac was pissed, things tended to get crushed and he didn’t want to be under that rubble. Not again anyway. “To be honest, not sure I remember much beyond Nightmare demon and fucking hell, why am I here. But I think there might have been a bit of can’t let the last Warden with some sense in his head die. Alistair is a good warrior, but he didn’t stand a chance alone.”

“So you decided to sacrifice yourself,” Cormac said bluntly, “for the Order of Idiots who have somehow managed to fuck up our lives at every turn?”

“Just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean I don’t understand their importance. Who else is going to stop the fucking Blights? The Orlesians?”

“Maker’s breath, you’re an ass,” Cormac huffed, leaning back in his chair. He sobered, “Just so you know, you shouldn’t have survived.”

“…Sorry?”

“Not like that, you ass. Maker, what do you take me for, Carver? I meant you shouldn’t have been able to survive.” Cormac pursed his lips. “I talked to Anders. He said that even with my mediocre skills in healing, you shouldn’t have been able to survive long enough for him to heal you. You should have died the moment I killed that desire demon. The shock of the sudden de-possession alone would have sent you to Andrastre in the state you were in.”

“But I survived.”

“You did, but we don’t know how.” Cormac paused. “But whatever it was, I’m damn glad for it. The Hawkes aren’t ready to become a set of four.”

Anton thought back to the moment of de-possession. All he remembered was the pain. He shuddered at the thought and Cormac noticed because he changed the subject abruptly. Well, sort of.

“Anyway, so a Nightmare Demon? What was that like?”

“A fucking nightmare,” Anton chuckled. “But no match for my smart mouth and a good bit of taunting.”

“Really now?”

“As it turns out, all demons have fragile egos.”

Cormac actually looked impressed, “I see I taught you well.”

“If there’s one thing you taught me, brother, it’s how to piss off our enemies.”

“Yeah well, don’t take it too much to heart, not everyone can take an ogre to the head,” Cormac laughed. “Get some rest, yeah? I’ll let the others know you’re…well, not brain damaged.”

“Most of them would contest that.”

“Varric especially. He cried, Anton, I don’t think he’s ever going to forgive you for that.”

“That big old softy,” Anton said, grinning. “Isabela owes me ten sovereigns. I knew Bianca wasn’t the only thing he’d shed tears about.”

“If you tell me you stayed in the Fade to win a bet, I’ll dump your ass back in there. That sort of stupidity isn’t needed in this world, Orlais has more than enough.”

“My lips are sealed then.”

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

It took a month before Anton was anywhere close to functioning like he normally would. The first couple of weeks had been agony, relearning how to use his muscles again for basic tasks. Anders had been a great help, his healing magic easing the way tremendously. Had it not been for him, Anton was sure he’d probably still be trying to walk without being exhausted. Even then, he still wasn’t allowed to exert himself too much, especially after Anders left, deeming it too much of a risk to stay with the Inquisition. Anton shooed Cormac after him and then told Artemis to head back home since there was little to be done and he knew Artie was missing Fenris. Light exercise was the extent of his physical exertion and he longingly watched the Inquisitor’s companions spar together. Some of them dropped by when they had the chance. Cassandra had been a surprise, especially considering her reaction to meeting the real him versus Varric’s version of him. But she was nice to talk to when she didn’t talk about duty and honor and all that jazz.

The Iron Bull came by sporadically, usually right after they returned from a dragon hunt. Those visits were Anton’s favorites. It was nice to meet someone who understood the importance of dragons. Cullen was not happy about that friendship, but Cullen also wouldn’t let him keep a dragon, so he could suck it (lovingly). Sera was fun too and she brought him cookies once (which were barely edible, but he appreciated the thought). She reminded him of Isabela in some ways and made a mental note to introduce the two.

Cole was the one that Anton wasn’t too sure about. Cole tended to make him uncomfortable, talking about things that Anton felt were better left unsaid. Cullen had told him about Cole’s unique “condition” and Anton tried to avoid him as far as possible. That changed when he started cutting Cole off, who finally seemed to understand why. Cole was kind enough to spar with him (carefully) so that he could at least get used to the motions again, even if there wasn’t any strength to them.

Still, the month had passed by slowly and quickly. The best thing to happen in the last month was getting the clearance from the healer’s to move back into Cullen’s room now that he could climb a ladder. Anton looked at himself in the mirror, studying the build of muscle where there had been none just a while back. He’d never been particularly built, not with his style of fighting, but he’d prided himself on having a desirable body. Not so much anymore, Anton thought distastefully. He’d have to work on that. He turned around to study his back and his eyes fell on the other remnant of his Fade Vacation, this one much more permanent.

The Nightmare Demon had left a scar on his neck, one that marked where the Demon had established a connection with him. The scar wasn’t noticeable when he wore collars, but right now, it demanded the attention of the room. It almost seemed like a tattoo, pink dots surrounding a larger one near the nape of his neck. He supposed he’d been lucky that the demon hadn’t left any other reminders besides that one.

“I really want to slaughter whatever did that to you,” Cullen’s voice came from behind him and Anton craned his head forward to see the Commander clamber up the rest of the ladder, eyes fixed on the mirror image of the scar.

“I got there first,” Anton said, looking back at the pink circle at the base of his neck. “But, for the sake of chronicling, Nightmare demons need to have a physical connection to you before they can influence you completely. And it’s not the good kind of physical.” He paused, “I think it’ll be a good reminder of what happened in there.”

“You honestly want one?” Cullen asked, only half seriously.

“That demon…it brought up a lot of things that I don’t want to forget,” Anton said, fingers tracing over the ring of nearly imperceptible bumps. “It’s a reminder that I have the ability to get over my worst fears when the situation calls for it. Some things, I may not be able to deal with now, but now I know that I can, someday.” He flashed a quick smile at Cullen, “Plus, doesn’t it make me look dashing?”

Cullen snorted, “You always look dashing.” He walked over and turned Anton around, brushing his lips against the mark, hands massaging his shoulders. “Maker knows how I ever get any work done whenever I see you. I’ve never been more tempted to simply damn everyone and be a pirate with you.”

“You always did love to plunder booty,” Anton said with a chuckle.

“Just one booty. Yours,” Cullen trailed kisses along his neck, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “That’s all a pirate like me needs.”

“Not a very ambitious pirate, are you?” Anton said, sighing in pleasure. “Well, I suppose Isabela would not appreciate the competition.”

Cullen shuddered at the thought of having to compete with Isabela when it came to plundering booty. He’d hang up his hat in less than a day. That woman was just depraved. He firmly tore his thoughts away from Isabela “plundering booty” and back to the reason he’d come by in the first place.

“It’s quite a nice day out. Would you like to take a stroll through the battlements?” Cullen asked.

“Walking is one of the few things I can do for now, of course I want to,” Anton scoffed, grabbing his shirt from the back of a chair. “Because a certain mother hen won’t let me do anything else.”

“When I told you to do what you want, you told the Iron Bull to toss apples that you could hit with your daggers,” Cullen said dryly. “And then you overexerted yourself and were sore for the rest of the day.”

“Nanny,” Anton said without any bite to it. But he did roll his eyes when Cullen insisted on going down the ladder first. Anton was tempted to just jump down to spite him but he had no doubt Cullen would try to catch him and then they’d both be in the infirmary.

“Just so you know, I’m not going to fall off the ladder,” Anton said, nudging Cullen away with a foot to his shoulder before descending all the way. “I have yet to fall off this ladder.”

“There’s a first time for everything. Think about that the next time you consider staying in the Fade,” Cullen said dryly.

“Maker, make one noble sacrifice and no one lets you forget it,” Anton grumbled, nudging Cullen out onto the battlements. “I’m fine, it’s not like I’ll break.”

“Until the healers-”

“Yes, yes, until the healers say so, I am to refrain from doing anything fun,” Anton waved his hand. “I have been good, you know. I haven’t even jumped off the roof yet.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that anyway,” Cullen said wryly. “You scare the recruits. One of them thought he was going to die.”

“If your recruits are so easily spooked, they have no right working for an organization that fights demons and spiders on a regular basis.”

“Recruits are hard to come by. I’ll take anyone, even if they are easily frightened.” That didn’t mean Cullen didn’t want to bang his head against his desk when he found them doing things like betting on the likelihood Cassandra would decapitate Varric or pranking each other. Sometime he felt like a den mother rather than a Commander.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Cullen said, “the Inquisitor wanted me to let you know that you are more than welcome to stay as long as you want. In fact, he’s insisted that you are going nowhere until you’re back to health, so it looks like we’ll be sharing these quarters for a longer while.”

“I would politely decline the invitation if it didn’t mean no meetings with boring officials, no having Aveline after my head and the presence of a very handsome Commander in my bed. But since it does, I gladly accept. Plus, I heard the Inquisitor is going to be hunting a Dragon in the Hissing Plains soon. Bull promised to bring me back a skull!”

“You and your dragons,” Cullen huffed a laugh. “What would you do with a skull anyway? Isn’t a dragon skull the size of a human being?”

“Hang it over the Viscount’s Keep of course. Can you imagine how much that would decrease the number of complaints I have to listen to if they have to cross a dragon skull glaring at them? I thought about getting the entire skeleton but that would take a very long time to transport to Kirkwall.” Anton reclined against the wall of the battlement, grinning slyly at Cullen.

Cullen tried to imagine that. Unfortunately, he could. He huffed a chuckle, “You are impossible.”

“And yet, here I am,” Anton said, running a finger down Cullen’s nose.

Cullen chuckled, “Here you are.” He leaned in close and Anton closed his eyes in anticipation of his kiss, shivering at the feel of Cullen’s hands squeezing his sides-

“Commander!”

Anton couldn’t help but laugh, turning his face away to cover it up while Cullen turned to the recruit with a glare that could kill. “What?” the Commander growled, sounding ready to spit. The recruit didn’t even look up from his papers.

“You wanted a copy of Sister Leiliana’s report,” the recruit said, holding the papers out. Cullen didn’t take them. The recruit looked up finally, eyes darting between the increasingly agitated Cullen and the chuckling Champion of Kirkwall. Anton bit his knuckles to stop himself from snorting when the recruit’s puzzlement turned to realization and, slowly, to fear. Though, he supposed being on the opposite side of that glare was intimidating to anyone who hadn’t seen said glare-er in a corset.

“On your desk. You wanted it on your desk, right,” the recruit stammered, backing away carefully like a hare from a wolf before walking away as fast as dignity would allow. Only when the recruit was out of earshot did Anton let himself laugh loudly and not even the stitch in his side could stop him.

“I think you made him piss himself-mmph!” he cut himself off with a pleased groan when Cullen grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss that sucked all the breath out of his lungs.

“I think,” Anton said between kisses, “we should head back to our quarters.”

“I agree,” Cullen said. This time when he followed Anton up the ladder, it was definitely not to make sure he didn’t fall off it.

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

Cullen was out of bed at the crack of dawn, pressing a kiss to a grumbling Anton’s forehead before he left. Anton resolved that he was sure as hell not getting out of bed for anything short of the apocalypse. And even then, if it was because of Qunari. The Inquisition could handle anything else.

He supposed he fell asleep again, because he was sure as shit that he wasn’t in the Fade again. Nope, this was just a shitty dream. He was dreaming about the green rocks and green water and green air because his mind was a fucking masochist. And fuck, if there was another demon in here, he’d kick their ass to the Black City and back.

“I see your experience with the Fade hasn’t changed you,” a deep voice said from behind him. Anton closed his eyes with a long suffering sigh and turned around to see a spirit hovering behind him. As he reached for his daggers, the spirit glowed brightly, expanding until it resembled a man in full platemail.

The appearance gave him pause. “What sort of new demon are you?”

“I am not a demon,” the spirit said offended.

“So you’re….what? A spirit of justice like Anders’s roommate?”

“You speak of your healer, yes? We are…similar. Or rather we were before.”

Anton moved away from his daggers. The spirit didn’t seem to be a threat. Not yet anyway.

“You are cautious, that is good,” the spirit said. “But despite your apprehension, you do not shy away from me. That is a rare thing in this world.”

“You haven’t given me any reason to stab you,” Anton said dryly. “But rest assured, if you so much as clink wrong, I’ll have a dagger in your eye.”

“You have no reason to fear me,” the spirit said, holding its hands up. “I watched you in the Fade before. A physical being in the Fade is hard to not notice, especially not one that resists demons the way you did.”

“Don’t know if you noticed, but I didn’t resist for long,” Anton said with a bitter smile. “Apparently, I was just waiting for the right Desire Demon.”

“I noticed that you fought the overwhelming odds,” the spirit countered. It sounded so sure of itself, it took Anton aback. “You fought against the demon as well. When the other came for you, you allowed him to take you from your dream, even though it may have killed you.”

“Well, I think I have a spirit stalker,” Anton said. The spirit’s words were making him uncomfortable. “Just how much did you hear?”

“Enough for me to decide that your life is not one that should have been extinguished in that way,” the spirit said. “You are a being meant to die in battle, taking as many enemies with you as possible. You are a warrior.”

Anton laughed out loud at that. “Sorry, but honorable warrior isn’t me. I break out in hives. You want honor, my little brother is the one to talk to. He’s an honorable ass.”

“A warrior is not recognized by his weapons,” the spirit said. “He is recognized by the strength of his heart, his determination and his bravery. You are a true warrior. It is for that reason that I saved your life.”

Anton’s grin disappeared, replaced with icy cold dread. “You what?”

“You would have died with the demon,” the spirit said. “I anchored myself to you and sustained you until a proper healer could be found.”

“Anchored- what do you mean you anchored yourself to me?” Anton said, heart beating hard as every memory of Anders and Justice flooded his mind.

“I mean that I took you as my host,” the spirit said, either unaware of uncaring about the thoughts going through Anton’s mind. “I would have asked permission, but there was no time to wait. You have my apologies on that.”

“Demons can’t possess you without your permission,” Anton snarled.

“You were on the verge of death. At that point, the body gives permission to anyone who asks in a bid for survival. Also, I am not a demon.”

“I don’t care what you are, you don’t fucking get my body!” Anton shouted, daggers out. “I’m not going to let another one of you nug-humpers control my body, not again!”

“Peace, I will not do anything without your permission,” the spirit said, voice low in an attempt at soothing. “I simply wish to add my strength to yours. Not all spirit-human relations end in disaster. Inquire of Wynne from the Ferelden Circle, a companion of the Hero of Ferelden. She was the host of a Spirit of Faith.”

Anton made a mental note to get a letter out to Solona immediately. “Anders thought the same thing about Justice. How long before you’re corrupted as well?”

“I cannot guarantee that I will be corrupted. Nor can I guarantee I will not. Anders found a way to live with Vengeance, did he not? You and I will learn to as well. With an idea of the consequences.” The spirit sounded a little apologetic. “Nonetheless, it is done.”

“Shit,” Anton said with a bitter laugh, dropping the daggers to run his hands over his face. “Holy fucking shit balls, how am I going to explain this to Cullen?”

“I could-”

“Absolutely not. He’s going to hear this from me, no one else. Fuck, but he’ll have to meet you at some point anyway.”

“Telling him immediately would be the brave thing to do,” the spirit said. It glowed brightly again, losing its human features and turning back into a ball of light. The Fade began to crack. “You are awakening. Do not hide this, it will only cause trouble in the future.”

“Like telling my husband I’m possessed isn’t going to cause trouble?” Anton said with a hysterical giggled. “Wait, what spirit are you?! You never told me!”

“Be reassured, my friend,” the spirit said as the Fade dissolved around Anton. “And know that I am a Spirit of Valor.”

Anton woke up with a loud gasp, sitting upright in bed like he’d been shocked. His heart felt like it would explode, his mouth was dry and sweat stained the bed. He stumbled over to basin of water and splashed it on his face, the water cooling the flush in his face. He crouched over it, hands cradling his head as he tried to understand what had just happened.

“Oh fuck, I’m possessed,” he said with a groan. A chuckle, “And a Spirit of Valor. Fuck.”

He pulled his hands away from his face as he felt a warm rush in his blood and his eyes widened. He nearly fell over himself, all usual grace forgotten, as he scrambled over to the nearest mirror. He had a feeling a hysterical fit wasn’t that far away.

“Uh, Cullen?” Anton called, voice a little higher than usual. The ladders rattled as Cullen clambered up it as quickly as his armor allowed.

“What? Is something-” the question died in Cullen’s throat.

Anton looked back at him, then at the glow on his skin and then back at the mirror to see the unnatural glow of his eyes. “So apparently I caught something from the Fade… and hopefully it’s not contagious.”

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Author's Note:**

> And Mav, I am so sorry for coping out from writing Artie. I just couldn't get his voice right!


End file.
